


When The Past Comes Knocking

by ddpoweredbycoffee



Series: A Crack in the Mirror Series [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Bonding, CITM, Counselor Spock, First Time, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Memories of the Past, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Meld, Sexual Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 12:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12254379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddpoweredbycoffee/pseuds/ddpoweredbycoffee
Summary: Counselor Spock confides in Doctor McCoy after painful memories put his new life at stake.





	1. Chapter 1

Heat....it's what Kirk senses first...enveloping his being and just teasing the thin line between pleasant and sweltering. More intensely, however, his blood boils with need...an overwhelming desire tugging at him from the depths of his mind...

Spock endeavored to not disturb him or Csr. Spock when he awoke at 0300 hours to complete a few time-sensitive tests in the lab, but Kirk has always been a light sleeper. After being interrupted during a particularly interesting dream filled with full pink lips, pliant bodies, and pale green skin shining with sweat, he's been like this for what seems like hours now- in and out of consciousness, quietly writhing like a dazed snake with a fever.

It isn't the first time he's awakened with a desperate ache between his legs, but this hunger is unlike anything he's experienced before- like an agonizing delirium that can only be sated by a scorching touch.

Unable to help himself, Kirk cants his hips upward. He pulls in a deep breath and releases it in a soft moan as the tip of his aching erection drags across the blanket draped over his waist. He rolls onto his side to the sleeping body next to him. He shifts closer, wrapping an arm around Csr. Spock's slender waist. His lust burns at the breathless, almost relieved, sigh that escapes the Vulcan's parted lips as he eagerly presses back against him.

Emboldened by his response, Kirk's hand travels lower, following the thick trail of dark, soft hair down his abdomen until he wraps around his full, rigid member. Fluid gushes over his fingers, allowing them to slide easily over the flared ridges of his shaft as he strokes long and slow.

"Are you having a good dream as well, Counselor?" he breathes against his back before giving it a wet kiss. The Vulcan shivers at his touch.

His mouth travels up and across the swell of muscles of his shoulder to his neck, and Csr. Spock tilts his head to give him better access. Kirk moves his hips forward, and he gives the counselor a soft bite when his erection slips between his fluid-drenched thighs.

"Oh, Spock," he murmurs into his ear.

With a rumbling groan, Csr. Spock pushes back harder, swallowing up the length of his shaft between his solid muscles. Kirk's fist continues its slow torture up and down as he pulls his hips back, his member slipping easily in the fluid, before sinking back in. He presses the counselor against him with his other arm around his chest, his fingers tangling in thick, dark hair. His licks and sucks at the junction of his neck and shoulder until a darker green mark begins to bloom. Breathy moans spill from Csr. Spock's mouth as he writhes against him.

Despite the intense desire raging in his mind, controlling his actions, something softer, more tender swells in his chest.

"I love you, Spock," his lips brush against the pointed shell of his ear.

Kirk's eyes open at the slight falter in the Vulcan's movements, and there's a palpable shift in the heated air of the room. He winces at the sudden release of pressure on his erection as Csr. Spock opens his knees to enable him to roll over. His eyes still closed and his long, dark locks falling into his face, the counselor pushes him back against the bed and climbs to straddle his hips. Without any warning whatsoever, he sinks down onto the captain, enveloping his entire length in one smooth motion.

Kirk clutches at his thighs, his head thrown back into the pillow, at the sudden onslaught of sensation. The fire roaring in his stomach burns even hotter, his entire body crying out for more.

His hands squeeze tighter as Csr. Spock leans forward, propping himself up with his arms on either side of Kirk's head and begins milking him in quick, harsh movements.

"Ah!" the captain gasps at the bolts of electricity coursing through his body.

He thrusts his hips up to meet each of the Vulcan's strokes. Csr. Spock whimpers quietly as sweat beads on his skin. He quickens his pace, slamming down against him with such force the captain worries he might hurt himself.

Then, through the fog of desire a darker cloud of rage swirls in, churning with sorrow and resentment. It takes him a moment to realize it's coming from the counselor. Kirk stares up at him. The Vulcan's face is twisted in pain.

"Spock?" Kirk asks, his mind clearing in an instant despite the counselor's continuing ministrations.

He reaches up to cup his cheek in his palm.

"Spock?"

The counselor, eyes squeezed shut, takes hold of his wrist and stretches it over his head along with the other. His hips move faster.

"Spock!" Kirk calls out, attempting to pull his wrists from the Vulcan's grip without success.

The dark cloud swells larger in his mind, forcing out anything else until it fills him with smothering smoke.

"SPOCK!"

Csr. Spock's eyes snap open, his dark pupils wide. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he stares down the captain's face as if he were seeing a stranger.

"Spock," Kirk says quietly.

Recognition flickers in the Vulcan's gaze and he releases his wrists as if they burned like the sun.

"Jim?" he whispers.

He stares down at him for another moment, trying to piece together what just occurred. His eyes widen suddenly.

"Did I hurt you, Jim?" he asks, cupping his cheek, his voice shaking.

"No, Spock, I'm fine..."

Kirk gently takes his hand in his and brings it to his lips. His kisses the fingertips softly, making sure to pour as much love and reassurance into the contact as he can muster.

"Where were you just now, my love?" he murmurs.

Csr. Spock pulls back his hand and rises abruptly from the captain's waist. He quickly hops to the floor and pulls on a pair of the captain's lounge pants. He opens the closet and collects the pieces of his uniform.

"Spock," Kirk says, sitting up from the bed.

"I am behind in my reports, Captain; I have a lot of work to accomplish to catch up," he replies flatly as he grabs his boots. "I'll go to my office as soon as I shower in the gym."

"What's wrong, Spock? What happened?"

"Good morning, Captain," the counselor replies, ignoring his questions, and walks out of the bedroom and out the door, leaving Kirk alone in bed with an aching knot in his stomach. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Captain's personal log Stardate 4057.2_   
_Three days have passed since I last saw Counselor Spock- since the strange...events of that morning, and I am unable to produce an explanation for his odd behavior. He has avoided me at every turn by deviating from his usual daily schedule and taking alternate routes around the ship. I am wracking my brain for what I could have done to cause him such distress, but I have yet to discover why. I am beginning to suspect I will need additional help to solve this mystery._

"Estimated time until we reach Aurelia, Mr. Sulu?"

"We will reach Aurelia in approximately 14.6 hours, Captain."

"Very good. Maintain course at warp factor 3."

"Yes, sir."

Kirk presses a button on the comm.

"Bridge to Counselor Spock," he says.

"Counselor Spock here," comes the reply.

His heart flutters wildly; he's only been able to hear his voice since he rushed out of their quarters.

"Counselor, have the psychology reports been completed on the Aurelians?" he inquires.

"Yes, sir."

The captain quickly stifles the flare of hope searing in his chest, fearful that even _it_ could disturb this delicate interaction. He clears his throat.

"Please bring them to the bridge. I'd like to review them before we arrive."

There's a pause. Blood roars deafeningly in Kirk's ears as he suffers through the silence.

"I am extremely busy, Captain; I will send a yeoman with the reports," Csr. Spock responds flatly.

"Oh, I could come pick them up from your office then-"

"That won't be necessary, Captain," the counselor interjects quickly. "The yeoman will be perfectly capable of delivering the reports. They will arrive shortly. Spock out."

Kirk stares down at the intercom, his jaw slack in disbelief. Anguish bears down on his chest like a physical force and closes around his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe. He glances up at Spock sitting at his station with his head turned to him. His face is a perfect picture of neutrality, but he's never seen such concern in those eyes. He needs to talk to someone about this- now.

"Mr. Spock, you have the bridge."

"Yes, sir."

The captain enters the turbolift, and the doors close softly behind him.

  
***

  
"Come in."

The door opens with a soft swoosh, and Kirk steps inside. The doctor sits at his desk, furiously scribbling notes on his PADD. He glances up.

"Jim, what are you doing here?" McCoy asks, pausing his writing. "Are you feeling alright?"

Kirk wrings his clammy hands as he steps deeper into the office. There's already sweat on his brown and a tightness in his chest.

"Yes, I'm fine, doctor," he lies weakly. "I'm here about Counselor Spock."

"Counselor Spock? Is something wrong?" McCoy inquires, setting his PADD down.

"Yes, but I...I don't know what it is. Something happened between us. I know tonight is your weekly poker game with him, and I was hoping you could talk to him."

"Talk to him? You live with him, Jim. Why do you need me to talk to him? I'm a doctor, not a relationship counselor."

"But you are a certified psychologist - _his_ psychologist. Please, Bones, I haven't seen him in three days, and I've only been able to speak to him over the intercom to request reports...Spock and I can't sleep."

McCoy arches an eyebrow at him, noting the dark circles bruising under his eyes and his slightly disheveled hair. He also notices the color draining from the captain's fingers from his insistent fidgeting. He looks terrible. The doctor springs up from his desk to make his way to his medical cabinet.

"Go ahead and sit down, Jim," he orders gently as he returns with two short glasses and a tall bottle of Saurian Brandy. He pours one and slides it to the captain. "That otta take the edge off a bit."

Kirk downs the brandy in one go, wincing as it burns down his throat. McCoy's eyebrows rise slightly, and he pours him another.

"Whatever it is, it sure has you worked up," he comments, sitting down and taking a long gulp of his own drink. "What's going on with Spock, Jim?"

Kirk steals another quick sip of brandy, and stares down into the amber liquid. He struggles to keep his hands steady. He fills his lungs with a deep breath before he begins:

"It was three days ago...I, uh, I woke up that morning with a...well, you know," his eyes flicker between the doctor and the floor; his cheeks burning. "Spock had left earlier that morning to run some tests in the lab, so it was just me and the counselor-"

"Listen, Jim," McCoy cuts in. "If we're going to continue with this, spare me the _unnecessary_ details, hm?"

"Sorry," Kirk answers, rubbing his glass with his thumb. He continues:   
"I, um, woke Spock up, and everything was going great until..."

Kirk glances back down at his glass, his voice failing on his last word. McCoy's brow furrows.

"Until what, Jim?"

"Until I said I love you. Which shouldn't have been strange since it isn't the first time I've said it to him, but his time...this time was different," he says quietly to his brandy. "He changed when I said it."

He takes another long pull from his drink.

"He became rougher- nearly violent..."

"Did he hurt you, Jim?"

"No...it was almost as if he was...being rough...with himself, and he was just using me to do it," Kirk replies, his words as far as his gaze as he recalls the memory. "I then realized he was still half asleep and must be in the midst of some sort of nightmare. I was able to wake him, and he practically ran from the room...he hasn't been back since."

McCoy nods thoughtfully, staring down into his own glass.

"Have you been to his office?"

"Yes," Kirk sighs. "Though, he always seems to be somewhere else when I go."

"You could order him to explain what's going on; you are his captain, and this is obviously hindering your performance and that of your first officer."

"No, doctor, I can't; I'm afraid that if I were to pull something like that it would only make the situation worse..."

Kirk clenches his jaw against the painful knot twisting in his stomach.

"Something was happening to him in his dream. I don't know what, but I could feel it," he practically whispers. "There was so much sadness... so much resentment...it didn't seem to be directed at me per se, but I seemed, somehow, to be the cause of it..."

The captain swallows the last bit of his brandy.

"It's hard to explain."

McCoy watches silently as his chin gives a small quiver.

"Please, Bones, I need to know what's happening to him. I need to know if it's something I did to make him feel this way," he pleads softly, glancing up at him with brimming eyes. "Please talk to him."

McCoy sinks back into his chair with a loud sigh and downs the rest of his drink.

"Alright, I'll talk to him, Jim," he announces. "But I can only find out what he's willing to tell me."

Kirk gives him a small smile.

"Thank you, Bones."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait! Things have been pretty crazy, but here is the next chapter! 
> 
> Be warned that I love the TNG Enterprise, so you will see a lot of it’s design in this fic going forward. 
> 
> Enjoy!

McCoy straightens a stack of gold poker discs and stands back to inspect his layout for the night’s game. Cards and discs wait patiently in their places on the green velvet octagon. He pushes one of the two armchairs on either side closer to the table.

He normally wouldn’t fuss so much over a game of poker, but he had to admit, he’s nervous tonight. In all his years as a doctor, he has never pushed a patient into discussing matters they are not ready to bring up themselves. He’s found it’s usually more harmful to delve into such things prematurely. The thought of doing so brings an unpleasant twinge to his stomach.

But he must, despite the alarm bells sounding off in his head. He was convinced of that when he stopped by the counselor’s office to confirm their weekly plans. Based on what Jim had told him about his behavior, he was a little surprised he was even admitted entry, and even more so when his invitation was accepted.

His demeanor seemed normal enough, nothing that would concern any casual observer. As his phycologist, however, could sense something was definitely off— an intense agitation brewing just beneath the surface, giving a harsh edge to their otherwise pleasant exchange.

Finally satisfied with his work, McCoy turns and walks to his medical cabinet. The buzzer sounds as he pulls two rounded glasses down from a shelf.

“Come in!” he calls.

The door swooshes open, and Csr. Spock steps inside.

“Good evening, doctor,” he greets him graciously.

McCoy sets the glasses down on the table, along with a bottle of Saurian brandy.

“Evening, Counselor; please sit down,” he replies warmly before spinning back around.

He then retrieves a tall bottle of an electric blue liquid from his cabinet.

“Romulan ale?” the counselor questions with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Why, doctor, you know this is illegal?”

McCoy’s mouth pulls into a grin.

“I only use it for medicinal purposes.”

“If you say so, Bones,” Csr. Spock chuckles.

The doctor removes the crystal topper from the bottle and fills a glass. As earlier that day, his friendliness gives an odd twinge to his stomach like he ate something passed its time. The counselor is definitely hiding something, but knowing whose mind- and level of denial- he’s up against, he needs to ease into the discussion. Unfortunately, he has the social grace of a bull and Csr. Spock is as cooperative as a heard of Targs when coerced. There is a reason he became a surgeon and not a counselor. He sighs internally, then pours himself some brandy.

“Are you ready for a night of defeat and sorrow?” he asks and plops down into his armchair across the table from the counselor.  
  
There’s a brief pause as Csr. Spock stares down into the ale set before him. He then glances up and starts as if startled.

“I apologize, doctor; I didn’t know you were speaking to me,” he says sweetly. “I thought you were preparing yourself.”

“Har, har; shut up and deal!”

As evening begins to dip into the late-night hours, the liquor in each bottle lowers and they settle into a warm haze. McCoy lost count of their poker rounds some time ago, but most of the discs have somehow migrated to the counselor’s side of the table. He struggles to focus on the game, to just enjoy the moment with a good friend and an excellent bottle of brandy, while an uneasiness continues to gnaw at the back of his mind. He has a mission to accomplish.

“Have you kept up your K'heacnor regiment, Counselor?” he asks as he shuffles his cards around.

Csr. glances up over his cards and arches an eyebrow.

“Yes, I have. Practicing martial arts remains to be an effective way to stay physically fit,” he answers. “Especially during times of peace.”

He tosses three silver discs to the center of the table. McCoy raises his brow.

“Interesting bet.”

“Is it, doctor?”

He glares down at the discs as if doing so would provide some insight. Minutes pass as he tries to decipher the counselor’s play. Finally, he adds a gold disc to the pile.

“I’m calling your bluff, Spock,” he announces with a satisfied grin. “You don’t have anything.”

He lays down his cards- three fours. The counselor follows suit, a smirk playing at his lips- a full house.

“Dammit,” McCoy curses under his breath.

He gathers up the cards as the Vulcan collects his winnings. He shuffles the cards in his hands, making a solid fluttering sound as they slot together in a blur. He then doles out two cards each. The next round begins.

“I’m glad to hear that you are able to find time in your busy schedule,” McCoy comments. “Seems like a good way to relieve stress...you must have a lot pent up recently.”

The counselor makes his bet and settles back into his chair.

“What makes you say that, doctor?”

McCoy adds a chip before flipping over three cards in the middle of the table.

“Chekov informed me that manufacturing is constructing a new punching bag after the previous one had been reduced to shreds,” he says casually.

“Is that so significant?” the counselor replies as equally casual. “I am a Vulcan.”

“It’s made from one of the strongest known fabrics in the galaxy, Counselor.”

“Hmm.”

He examines the newly revealed cards with a furrowed brow. The doctor can practically see the gears churning in his head as he strategizes his next play. He wonders what it would have been like to serve on a battlecruiser with him at the comm. Csr. Spock finally shakes his head.

“Your move, doctor.”

McCoy throws in a crimson disc without hesitation. He then flips over another card.

“I suppose it only makes sense that you’d have a lot of steam to release,” he continues. “How long has it been since you visited the bridge, Spock?”

The muscles under the counselor’s cheeks flex briefly as he clenches his teeth. He drops a crimson disc on top of the last.

“Why do you ask, doctor?”

McCoy shrugs.

“Crewmen have barely seen you around the ship recently,” he answers. “In fact, this is the first time I’ve seen you in days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“When was the last time you slept, Spock?” the doctor asks. “Or been to your quarters, for that matter?”

Realization flickers in the counselor’s dark eyes, and his mouth pulls up into a small, stiff smile.

“Ah, there it is,” he says. “I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to mention it.”

He sinks back into his chair with a long sigh.

“Did you invite me here to play poker or to interrogate me, McCoy?”

“To play poker, Spock, as we do every week, but...” the doctor pauses and sets down his cards. “Jim visited me today.”

“Oh?” the counselor replies curtly.

“Spock, don’t be like this. I wasn’t trying to deceive you. We all just want to know what’s going on with you.”

Csr. Spock tosses his cards to the table and they slip wildly across its surface.

“I don’t see how this is any of your concern,” he says firmly.

“It is my concern if it’s effecting the operation of this ship and the performance of her crew, Counselor!” McCoy retorts. “What is going on?”

“Are you asking as my doctor or as the captain’s officer?” Csr. Spock growls.

The heat of frustration cools from McCoy’s head in an instant. His shoulders slump slightly and his gaze softens.

“I’m asking as your friend, you pointy-eared hobgoblin,” he answers quietly. “What is going on?”

The Vulcan glares down at his hands in his lap, not saying a word.

“Please, Spock,” McCoy pleads gently. “Jim hasn’t slept since you left...neither has Spock.”

The counselor steals a glance up, his eyes filled with worry at their mention.

“I don’t expect to solve this problem for you, but maybe talking about it will help,” the doctor prods with as much delicacy as freshly fallen snow. “What was happening in that dream?”

A silent moment passes between them. He waits patiently until the counselor finally looks up with a defeated sigh.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he relents.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Not exactly. It was a...a memory."

"A memory? Of what?"

“Captain Kirk...of my universe,” he says.

Captain Kirk of the parallel universe. He was in the room as Jim listened through that captain’s accomplishments- if you could call the execution of over four thousand colonists an accomplishment. He had never met the man personally, due to the switch caused by the transporter malfunction, and he thanks the gods for that mercy. He gives an involuntary shiver at the thought.

“What were you remembering about him?” he inquires while ignoring the chill hardening in his bones.

Csr. Spock casts his eyes downward, and he can swear there is a slight flush coloring his cheeks.

"The first night I spent with him."

McCoy manages to restrain his shock before it has a chance to reach his face, but the way the Vulcan’s eyes flutter close in shame, he must have still sensed it.

"You and the captain were intimate?" his voice struggles through the tightness in his throat.

"If you mean did we have sex, doctor, then yes- lots of it- but I'd hardly call it intimate,” Csr. Spock answers bitterly. “I was simply there when he wanted me. The captain also kept Lieutenant Moreau as his woman, but most nights it was me he brought to his bed."

McCoy swallows despite the dryness of his mouth.

"I see...You were under Christopher Pike's command before Kirk. Were you and he ever-"

"No — Captain Pike did not use me in that capacity. He never touched me, which is fairly significant for an Empire captain,” he glances up with a small smile, though it failed to touch his eyes. "If you think I'm beautiful now, you should have seen me when I was first gifted to him, fresh out of the academy."

"Gifted?"

"Yes...Vulcans were enslaved by the Empire for centuries. Those few with the intelligence, durability, and loyalty desired by the Empire were drafted into Starfleet, usually as crewmen or companions. I, however, had a pedigree and a skill set that made me extremely valuable, so I was given as an officer to the most revered starship captain when I graduated.”

"Captain Pike."

"Precisely."

McCoy grabs the bottle of Romulan ale by the neck and leans over to pour him another generous glass.

“He was good to me- relatively speaking; I served as his science officer for eight years and never once did I fear for my safety at his hands,” Csr. Spock continues. “I was respected as a member of the bridge crew, and I gained priceless experience aboard his starship. I felt I could be content serving with him through my career...”

He downs his ale in one smooth gulp; McCoy pours him another.

“But then James T. Kirk happened.”

The doctor finishes his own Saurian brandy before refilling his glass.

"We had just silenced an uprising on Delb II, and we needed to restock our armory. We rendezvoused at Deneva with the ISS Lydia Sutherland, where James Kirk was serving as her first officer," Csr. Spock tells him. "I had encountered him a number of times during similar resupplies, and was well aware of his rapid rise through the ranks of the Empire."

He rolls the electric blue ale around in his glass.

"While the Enterprise was receiving her shipment, I was on the planet's surface for a routine patrol with the landing party. Upon my return, I learned that Captain Pike had been assassinated and was ordered to meet with the new captain in his quarters."

_Spock presses the button beneath the plaque engraved "Captain" and hears the whistle sound from within._

_"Enter," a deep voice calls out._

_The door slides open, and he steps inside. Placing his hands behind his back, he stands at attention as it closes behind him. Kirk, still dressed in his old uniform, flips through the pages of a thick book in his hand- one of Captain Pike's books. He carelessly tosses it to the desk with a loud thud, and Spock quickly tames the snarl twitching at his mouth._

_"Congratulations on your promotion, Captain Kirk," he says instead, despite the acrid taste on his tongue._

_Kirk leans back against the desk with a smirk, his golden eyes shimmering like a monster in the night._

_"Why, Mr. Spock, you almost sound sincere."_

_Spock shifts subtly from his place by the door. The dagger at his side seems to burn like hot iron._

_"Vulcans are...trained...by the Empire to only speak truth," he tells him flatly._

_"Ah, yes, but you're not just any Vulcan, are you, Mr. Spock?" Kirk stands from the desk to take a step closer; Spock manages to keep from taking one back. "There is a reason you were given to Pike..."_

_Spock swallows his disgust as the captain's eyes drop down to his neck, then follow the solid expanse of his chest down his body. He circles around, taking his time to inspect him._

_"You are quite an exception," he murmurs, mostly to himself, as he comes back to face him. "Gathering from Captain Pike's personal logs and the accounts of his personal guard, it is my understanding that he never claimed you."_

_Spock clenches his jaw tightly before answering._

_"No, he never touched me."_

_"Have you ever before taken a lover?"_

_"No."_

_Kirk's eyes darken at his answer, the arrogant smirk falling slightly. Spock's stomach churns painfully at the thought of what must be coming next._

_"I can sense your distress, Mr. Spock, but rest assured, there is no reason for it," Kirk tells him._

_Spock stares down at him as he arches an eyebrow. The captain moves closer until he can feel the cooler temperature of the man through his uniform._

_"Although you now belong to me," he says, his voice like gravel in his throat. "I will not force myself on you..."_

_He glances down at the Vulcan's pink lips surrounded by his immaculately trimmed beard. He turns away and walks back to his desk, and Spock secretly releases the air from his lungs._

_"You are not my first Vulcan, Mr. Spock. Forced, willing- I've had them both ways, and I've discovered something rather interesting," he explains casually. "Vulcans have the innate ability to control their sexual responses- something you are probably not familiar with due to your inexperience- but, there are a multitude of things the Vulcan body does only when it is willing..."_

_Kirk's eyes flutter closed, and he draws in a shaky breath._

_"As such, I will wait until you come to me."_

_Spock quickly catches and stifles his revulsion behind his neutral mask._

_"Permission to speak freely, sir?"_

_Kirk gives a single nod._

_"That will never happen- sir."_

_The captain's mouth twists into a crooked smile._

_"We'll see."_

_He plops down into the chair._

_"In the meantime, you've been promoted to first officer," he announces. "Congratulations."_

_"I thank you, Captain, but Lieutenant Commander Robbins would be a better selection as first officer," Spock replies._

_Kirk begins flipping through another book on the desk._

_"That's not possible," he says bluntly, pausing on a page; he looks at him over the edge. "She was executed two hours before you were beamed aboard, along with the other officers. You are the only remaining officer of Captain Pike's crew."_

_Spock's chest collapses as the air is knocked out of his lungs. When he manages to recollect his faculties, he asks:_

_"Why, may I inquire, have I been spared?"_

_Kirk leans back in his chair as his eyes drag over his body in a completely uninhibited gaze._

_"I happen to know who your mother is, Mr. Spock," he muses, the tip of his finger absently tracing the outline of his bottom lip. "You are far too valuable to be tossed away with the trash."_

_He then sits up to resume his search through Captain Pike's belongings._

_"You are dismissed."_

_"Yes, sir," Spock states with a bow and leaves the room._

"I was trained to withstand levels of physiological and physical pain that would make most men go insane,” Csr. Spock says quietly, his gaze still faraway. “He couldn’t force my loyalty through torture, he knew that...so he decided to deploy a different strategy.”

He sips at his ale this time, to the doctor’s relief.

“I had no clue what I was up against. He truly was a genius, and I was naive; the captain knew much more about Vulcan touch-telepathy than I gave him credit for..." he explains. “A bump in the arm here, a touch of the hand there...he found the crack in my armor and went at it with a sledgehammer.”

He pauses for a moment to take a trembling breath.

“Eventually, I couldn't even escape from him in my dreams. I became...desperate..."

_The captain's guard, standing on either side of the door, focus in on Spock as he approaches the captain's quarters._

_"I request audience with the captain," he tells them with a strained voice._

_"Did he call for you?"_

_"No."_

_The guard on the right presses the button on the wall._

_"Yes?" comes Kirk's voice over the intercom._

_"Captain, First Officer Spock requests an audience with you," the guard informs._

_There's a short pause before the captain answers:_

_"Let him in."_

_The guards move aside to allow him through as the door slides open. Spock steps inside quickly despite his attempts to remain calm._

_Kirk sets down his PADD as he enters and leans back with a grin._

_"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Spock?" he asks sweetly._

_Spock swallows hard, perspiration already beading under his uniform. He can't stand it any longer. His body is on fire._

_"Permission to kneel, sir," he asks, shaking._

_The smile falls from Kirk's face in an instant, and his eyes darken as they take in his discomfort._

_"Mr. Spock," he starts quietly. "Are you asking what I think you are asking?"_

_Spock swallows again. His mouth is as arid as the deserts of Arrakis._  
  
"Yes," he breathes.

_Kirk looks him up and down with the gaze of a wolf debating where to take his first bite. Spock can practically taste the saliva pooling on his tongue._

_"Permission denied," he finally states._

_A defeated breath passes through Spock's parted lips as he lowers his head. Humiliation bubbles in his throat._

_"Stand in front of me."_

_Spock's face snaps up at the order, and his heart races in his ribcage._

_"I won't repeat myself, Mr. Spock," Kirk threatens._

_Emerging from his trance, the Vulcan closes the distance in swift strides to stand before him. Kirk sits up from his chair, now eye-level with his hips. Spock's body screams for his touch, his skin humming with the anticipation._

_"Turn around."_

_Without hesitation, Spock obeys. The chair squeaks slightly behind him as the captain stands. He nearly faints when he feels a tug at the gold sash around his waist._

_"What is it you told me the day I took control of the Enterprise?" Kirk asks, his breath cool against the back of his ear. "That this would never happen?"_

_The sash comes loose, and he pulls it away. Spock startles when his dagger is removed from its holster, but he doesn't move a muscle._

_There's a sharp sound as the hem of his uniform is cut. The blade slices through the fabric along his spine like butter. The ruined top slides down his arms, and he let's it fall to the floor in a pile. The captain pulls his wrists behind his back. The sash wraps around them and is securely tied. He follows the movement of his shoulders as he's turned around to face him. A small smirk twitches at the captain's lips._

_"Now you may kneel."_

_Spock drops to his knees immediately, ignoring Kirk's raised eyebrows. He waits patiently, chin raised. His chest moves with heavy breaths. The captain reaches up to rub at his bottom lip with his thumb. He then shoves it inside his waiting mouth._

_"Suck," Kirk commands gruffly._

_The Vulcan draws his thumb in deeper. His tongue swirls around it eagerly, and he dares to give it a little nip. Desire flares in his belly at the captain's groan, and he laps in earnest. The thumb is suddenly pulled away._

_"Look at me."_

_Spock glances up, his eyelids heavy with lust. Kirk stares down at him with parted lips, and he hears the sound of a zipper. A rich musk hits his nose, and he begins to salivate._

_"Open your mouth."_

_His loose jaw falls open and something hard and cool presses against his bottom lip._

_"Wider," Kirk rasps, and he does._

_His eyes flutter closed when the captain's hips move forward, pushing his half-hard erection passed his soft lips. The taste of him explodes on his tongue, and the Vulcan slides it along the stretched velvety skin filling his mouth, eager for more. He chokes momentarily when it hits the tender spot at the back of his throat._

_"Fuck," Kirk hisses, his fingers tangling in his hair._

_Spock swallows around him the best he can, pure instinct and arousal taking over. His cheeks hallow out as he drags his lips along his length. He uses the tip of his tongue to dip into the slit at his head, licking up the leaking, bitter fluid. He then lowers down again, his jaw muscles aching slightly as they protract to accommodate his girth._

_Tears sting at his eyes as the grip tightens in his hair, holding him in place. Spock's mouth goes slack as Kirk pumps his hips in a steady rhythm, nailing the back of his throat again and again and again. He practically purrs when the captain gasps at the drag of his teeth along his skin. He yanks him away by his locks, and thick strings of saliva stream down his chin._

_Kirk takes him under the arms and, to his surprise, lifts him easily to his feet. He hoists him up onto the desk and steps between his parted knees. He ducks into his neck, sucking and licking at the sensitive area, his hands trail up his taut thighs. Spock moans low in his throat as the captain grinds against his own aching arousal._

_"What a wicked mouth you have, Mr. Spock," he growls against his skin, his breath cool and wet. "I'm beginning to wonder if this is not your first time."_

_He bites down hard on the crook of his shoulder, making Spock yelp._

_"It is, Captain," he assures Kirk quickly as his teeth dig deeper._

_"Good," Kirk hums; the coppery scent of his own blood tickles lightly at his nose._

_He tears open his uniform pants and dips an eager hand beneath his undergarments. Spock whines brazenly when his strong fingers wrap around his erection. Confusion seeps into his mind as a warm fluid spills down along the inside of his thighs._

_"It would seem my affect on you has achieved its purpose," Kirk comments. "This fluid is only produced if the Vulcan desires it..."_

_He gives him a firm stroke, his fingers undulating around the flared ridges, and more fluid gushes down._

_"You must really want this, Mr. Spock," he murmurs into his ear._

_"Yes, Captain," Spock rasps, and thrusts up into his palm. "Please..."_

_With a dark chuckle, Kirk pushes him back until he's splayed across the desk. The anticipation of what's to come overwhelms the discomfort of his weight pressing down on his tied limbs. His boots are pulled off before his pants are yanked roughly from his legs, followed by his soaked undergarments. Breathing heavily and completely bare, he stares up at the captain under hooded lids. He watches as he discards his uniform. He drinks in the expanse of his tanned, golden torso, twisting his wrists against the sash in his desire to touch._

_Kirk pulls his knees up to chest, effectively folding him in half. Spock's breath hitches in his throat at the pressure against his entrance. The captain takes hold of his jaw with a firm hand._

_"Look at me," he orders. "I want to see your eyes as I claim you."_

_The pressure increases against him. He gasps sharply at the acute pain that shoots through him as he gives way._

_"It will hurt less if you relax," Kirk explains with an eerie gentleness, pausing momentarily to allow the Vulcan time to adjust. "It would be a shame to damage you so soon."_

_Spock nods and draws in a calming breath, his entire body trembling. His heart thunders against his side, and after a few more deep breaths, the ring of muscle clamped down around the captain softens. Kirk moans and more fluid seeps out as he sinks in deeper. Spock's mouth opens in a silent cry under his grasp, his eyebrows furrowing as he stretches to accommodate him._

_"That's it, Mr. Spock," Kirk praises huskily, his eyes locked on his. "Relax..."_

_A groan rumbles deep in his chest when skin finally meet skin. He's filled to the brim- feels he might come apart at any moment. He's so full, so tight, and fluid trickles down to pool on the desk below him. A part of him wants to pull away, to recoil and hide from the flood of sensation coursing through him, but another part screams out with need, the need for more, to feel, to move._

_"Please, Captain," he whispers with a shaky breath._

_Kirk's lips pull into a wide grin as perspiration glows on his skin. Spock's eyes flutter closed as he slowly draws back his hips. His length glides smoothly with the fluid until he's almost all the way out before gently pushing back inside. He repeats the motion until his body lies pliant for him._

_A loud cry erupts from Spock's throat as the captain abruptly snaps his hips forward. He grabs his thighs for leverage and sets a punishing pace, barely giving the Vulcan time to prepare._

_"Fuck, you're so tight, Spock," Kirk grunts through gritted teeth. "Feel so fucking good-"_

_Spock's body trembles at the ragged desperation of his tone. Wave after wave of pleasure washing over him, sweat beading off his skin like freshly fallen rain. He's close- to what, he's not sure, but the coil in his lower belly squeezes with its impending release. The force of it, he can sense will be unlike anything he's ever experienced before, and he is almost...afraid of it. Afraid of what it will do to him, of what it means, of the fact that such a sensation could be brought about by the bloodthirsty tyrant driving into him. And yet, he's never needed anything more. His very soul resonates with that of the man above him, desire pooling in his core like magma._

_Another thrust, and he implodes. With a feral scream, the bolt of lightning by which he's been struck rips through him, searing his blood and melting every nerve in his body._

_Slowly, he returns to himself. His heart flutters in his side as his chest rises and falls rapidly with labored breaths. Something warm and wet rests on his stomach. He opens his eyes, not realizing he had shut them, and his vision clears enough to take in the form of the captain. He's still hard, buried deep inside, but his pace has slowed to a gentle grind. Little gasps escape Spock's lips as he twitches and shudders around him._

_He watches as Kirk drags his fingers through the splatter of sapphire blue coating his abdomen and lifts them to his mouth. He moans, his eyes fluttering closed, when his lips wrap around them._

_"Nectar worthy of a god," he says, his voice low, as he stares down beneath heavy lids._

_The world swirls as the captain pulls Spock up from the desk. His mouth is captured in a deep, rough kiss filled with teeth and a forceful tongue. The sweet, metallic tang of his own release stings at his senses. Kirk pulls away to let him catch his breath, and buries his face in his neck._

_"What a prize, you are, Mr. Spock," he murmurs into his jaw while pinching a taut nipple, making Spock writhe against him. "So, responsive..."_

_He brings Spock closer and guides his legs around his hips._

_"Hold on to me as tight as you can," he orders, slipping and arm around his waist and a hand under his thigh. "Your legs are too weak to walk."_

_Kirk steals another kiss before lifting him from the desk. He struggles to do as he's told, his legs like jelly as they hold on. He's carried back to the bedroom, and to his relief, is quickly plopped down into the bed. He twists against the sash still securing his wrists, his body once again aflame with a rapacious need._

_Spock gasps when Kirk flips him over, propping him up on his knees with his cheek pressed against the bed. He moans, unashamed, as strong hands spread him wide, leaving him completely exposed._

_"What a prize," comes the voice behind him._

_The bed shifts with added weight, and Spock's breaths quicken through his lips. He cries out as the captain pushes inside without warning in one quick thrust. He groans, squeezing at Spock's hip to steady himself. Fresh fluid tickles down his thighs, and he bites at the blanket covering the bed as Kirk pumps into him with firm, rhythmic strokes._

_"Look at you, Mr. Spock," Kirk chuckles breathlessly. "Such a slut for my cock..."_

_"Yes, Captain," his sighs are muffled by the blanket; he dips his spine, drawing him in even deeper._

_Sweat trickles down his skin as he begins to pick speed. Spock grits his teeth, tension building hot and thick in his stomach. His tightening muscles brace themselves as the air is knocked from his lungs with each thrust. The soft flutter returns to his lower belly, and he chases after it with a voracious desire. He wants to feel it again- that release, the explosion of sensation and the following flood of euphoria. Yes, he wants it, he needs it._

_"Fuck! Please! Please don't stop!" Spock babbles helplessly as Kirk slams into him again and again. "Please, I'm so close-"_

_He nearly roars with relief when the captain gives the sash a rough tug and it falls loose from his wrists. Ignoring the stiffness in his shoulders, his arms immediately fly forward to grip the blanket. He pushes back eagerly with the added leverage to match Kirk's quickening rhythm. He clenches around him as his molten core begins to spread to his limbs._

_"Yes!- just like that, Mr. Spock," Kirk pants, his grip bruising at his hips._

_Spock whimpers and cries with abandon as he brushes against the small bundle tucked deep inside him, like shooting sparks from a live wire. Then, with one solid hit, the whole world stops. His vision flashes white and his voice is ripped from his throat in a deafening shout. His entire body seizes as it's filled with fire and ice all at once._

_Gasping for air, his senses return as Kirk falls over the edge after him. He sighs at his teeth on his shoulder and the warmth filling him. Heart thundering against his back, Spock relishes the twitches and pulses of his spent body as the captain catches his breath._

_Kirk straightens up and slips an arm around his middle to lift him to his chest. Spock bows his spine against him, his sweltering skin sticky with perspiration. He startles slightly at the sharp tip of a dagger at the column of his throat. With only a split second delay, he lifts his chin, resting his head back on Kirk's shoulder, giving him unhindered access. A rumble of approval vibrates against his shoulder blades._

_"You would let me, wouldn't you?" the captain murmurs into his ear and presses the dagger harder into his skin._

_"Yes, Captain," Spock whispers._

_He's roughly flipped onto his back, his body as weak and malleable as warm clay. Kirk climbs over him, pressing down and trapping him against the mattress. He reaches up and takes hold of his face between his hands. Spock stares up at him, somehow terrified and content all at once. The captain leans in until his cool breath brushes against his parted lips._

_"You belong to me now, Spock; do you understand?" he says quietly, his unwavering gaze adding potency to his words. "You are mine."_

_Eyes wide, Spock's mouth falls open, helpless to do much else._

_"Yes, Captain."_

_Kirk's lips pull into a small smirk, his eyes dancing with triumph in the low light. He maneuvers himself between his legs._

_"Good boy."_

_And he pushes into him once more._

“I gave in,” Csr. Spock voice is barely a whisper. "I was his, wholly and completely; every waking moment I lived for him."  
  
He glares absently at the table. A long pause passes between them, but McCoy waits patiently for him to continue, sensing there is still so much more to tell.

"It was like a sickness...a sickness that could only be cured temporarily by his touch and his alone," the counselor says to his lap. “During the periods when it wasn't overwhelming my every thought, it gnawed at the back of my mind...a constant, relentless need."

He sips at his ale.

"That's eventually what gave it away."

"Gave what away?"

"The fact that he had bonded me, doctor."

There's a slight hesitation in McCoy's movements as he brings his glass to his lips. He utilizes the duration of his sip to sift through the flood of thoughts and questions for the words to say. Finally, he finds them and sets his glass down.

"Did you love him?"

Csr. Spock swallows at the shame welling up his throat. He stares down at the table, not seeing a thing. There's a silent moment before he answers:

"For a time, I thought I did. But being truly bonded and what he did to me is not the same thing," he replies.

McCoy watches the tempest of emotions churning in his eyes.

"I don't know how he discovered the method, let alone how he was able to perform it, to this day I can't explain it, but he did, and he tainted it somehow," he explains. "He bastardized it, transformed it into an instrument of control instead of the commitment of love and loyalty it was meant to be."

His fingertips slide slowly along the rim of his glass, and he visibly calms as he follows the motion with his gaze.

“I accepted it as a part of life- of me...I had no choice. For three years, I was a spectator of my own existence, helpless to resist him or the things he ordered me to do...”

His voice trails off and he glances down. He closes his eyes against the flood threatening his weakening composure. He then smiles, a particularly fond memory surfacing in the darkness.

“Then an ion storm hit during our meeting with the Halkans.”

“The switch,” McCoy adds.

Csr. Spock glances up and nods, his smile growing at the thought.

“The switch,” he repeats.

The doctor leans back in his chair, taking his brandy with him for a sip.

“From what I remember, it took you quite a while longer to figure us out than Commander Spock,” he teases with a smirk in an attempt to lighten the mood somewhat.

The counselor rolls his eyes.

“Yes, doctor, because it is far easier for civilized men to behave like barbarians, than it is for barbarians to behave like civilized men,” he counters.

McCoy raises his glass.

“Touché,” he concedes.

Csr. Spock mirrors his motion before taking a sip of his ale. He continues:

“I did notice something was different right away, however. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, but something was definitely off when your group stepped off the transporter pad.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the absence of the constant, underlying foreboding I felt every time the other Captain Kirk was in my presence. Instead I was filled with...warmth- it was intoxicating,” Csr. Spock explains with a gentle grin. “Then there was the blatant disregard for Empire regulations regarding the Halkans by your captain. The other Kirk would suffer a painful death before ever showing mercy, but your Kirk would face that same death in order to save another.”

McCoy feels his own smile blooming as he watches the fondness soften the counselor’s features.

“Sounds like love at first sight, Spock.”

A faint flush colors the Vulcan’s cheeks a darker shade of green, and McCoy stifles a chuckle.

“And after we returned to our own universe?”

There’s a palpable shift in the room like a thick fog rolling in from the ocean.

“I took the Enterprise.”

_Kirk steps onto the bridge, and Spock follows close behind. He gives a small nod to his personal guard at the door, the same action the captain performed every time he entered. Both men nod back to confirm his safety. Spock walks passed to take his place at the science station, and Kirk sits in his captain's chair as a whistle sounds on the intercom._

_"Captain, it's Marlena. I need to speak with you at once."_

_"Regarding?"_

_"It cannot be discussed openly, sir. It concerns your safety. I request a private audience."_

_Even with his back turned, Spock can sense the irritation exuding from the captain._

_"Very well. Meet me in the briefing room. Spock, you have the com."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_Spock watches as he exists the room with his guards before settling into the chair. A button beeps from the communications station behind him._

_"The captain is now on his way to the briefing room, Mr. Scott; are your men in position?" Uhura asks over their secure channel._

_"Aye," Scotty responds._

_"Do you still have eyes on Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekhov?"_

_"Aye; both are still in Recreation room 3."_

_"Very good. Standby for the signal, Mr. Scott."_

_Uhura turns to him._

_"We're ready, Mr. Spock."_

_This is it. After weeks of meticulous grooming of key crew members, negotiations, and planning, the moment had finally arrived. His last image of the parallel Kirk flashes in his mind- climbing the short steps up to the transporter pad, turning to him to say:_

_“In every revolution, there's one man with a vision."_

_"The captain has returned to the turbolift," Ensign Stiles informs him. "He will arrive in 15 seconds."_

_"Draw your phasers," Spock commands, and the others obey. "Uhura, give the signal."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_A few agonizing moments later, the doors of the turbolift open as Spock slowly stands from his seat._

_"Guards, arrest this man!" Kirk shouts at his back. "For treason!"_

_Spock turns to face him. The captain's phaser points directly at his torso. It takes only a heartbeat for Kirk to notice that no move is being made to fulfill his orders._

_"Why are you just standing there?" Arrest him!" he snarls at his guards._

_Instead the two men draw their weapons and point them at the captain. Kirk's eyes widen considerably._

_"I suggest you lower your phaser, Captain," Spock says calmly._

_Kirk's gaze flickers wildly around the room, now understanding how outnumbered he actually is. His phaser lowers to his side, and he drops it on the floor._

_"Uhura, status?"_

_"Mr. Scott confirms all positions have been secured- no casualties, and Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekhov are in custody," she reports smoothly._

_Kirk's mouth twists into a smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement._

_"Do you realize what you're doing, Spock?" he asks._

_"The term is "mutiny", Captain, and yes, I am very aware of what I'm doing," Spock replies flatly, not taking his eyes from him. "His dagger, Marlena,"_

_The lieutenant carefully steps around him and plucks the silver blade from its holster on his hip._

_"I expected this from you, Marlena, with Mr. Scott or Mr. Chekhov, even, but you," Kirk's eyes narrow at him. "Spock, I didn't know you had it in you."_

_"Do not take it too hard, Captain; humans are well known for their errors in judgement," Spock responds, making the corner of Kirk's mouth twitch. "Take him to the brig."_

_Stiles joins the captain on the bridge platform and takes his arm gruffly in his grip._

_"Don't!" Spock barks abruptly, bringing all eyes to him. He glances around, schooling his reaction instantly. "There's no need to harm him."_

_With a smile worthy of the fear it evokes, Kirk maintains his gazes as he allows himself to be led off the bridge. The turbolift doors close, finally breaking their gaze, and Spock returns to his chair._

_"Mr. Kyle, maintain course until we reach Antares 4," he orders firmly. "The Empire cannot be alerted to our activities until we rendezvous with our reinforcements."_

_"Yes, sir."_

"Just like that," McCoy states plainly. "No casualties, no nothing. That's impressive, Spock. You took over the Enterprise like it was a walk in the park."

"Hardly," Csr. Spock snorts. "That coup took weeks of identifying and convincing those to aid in the effort followed by extensive planning- all while avoiding detection. Fortunately, the captain's personal guard didn't need much prodding at all."

McCoy swirls his brandy.

"Following the captain around constantly, witnessing everything he's done- I can imagine it wouldn't be too hard to rebel against him."

Csr. Spock's chest tightens painfully at the comment. He takes a sip of ale to distract himself.

"Those still loyal to the Empire were kept in Cargo Bay 4 under heavy guard while the captain was held alone in the brig. I waited 36 hours before I went to speak with him, to reason with him," he says, diverting away from his other thoughts. "He was not very cooperative."

Spock walks down the corridor towards the brig in even strides. The guards outside straighten as he approaches.

"Commander," they both greet him with a small nod.

“At ease, gentlemen,” he replies “I wish to speak to the prisoner.”

“Of course, sir.”

The guards step aside, one inputting the access code for the entrance. With a beep, the door slides open, and Spock steps inside. Another guard sits at his station directly across from a wide, lighted archway.

“Commander,” the guard says, immediately rising to his feet.

Spock glances through the archway, unhindered by the invisible force field. Kirk lays on his side on the small bed against the far wall, facing away from the entrance. His hands lay limp where they’re cuffed behind his back.

“When was he put in those restraints?” he asks the guard, not taking his attention from the redness he can spot over the edge of the metal.

“We put them on him when he was first placed in the brig- for added security, sir,” the guard answers promptly. “He is Captain Kirk, sir.”

“I don’t give a damn who he is, Lieutenant!” Spock snaps, his anger flaring as he glares at the man. “It doesn’t mean we are given permission to act like barbarians!”

The guard slinks back, his shoulders slumping.

“Yes, sir.”

“Leave us,” Spock orders, his voice still smoldering.

“Yes, sir,” the guard repeats and quickly exits the room.

Once the door swishes closed behind him, Spock inputs his code into the panel to the side of the archway. The force field dissipates with a crackle. He steps inside and the field begins to hum softly as it’s reactivated.

“Barbarians?” Kirk says to the wall. “Is that what you think of me, Mr. Spock?”

“To the contrary, Captain. Your intelligence and cunning have served you well over the years,” Spock replies. “You made captain faster than anyone in the Empire.”

“And yet you still think you can just take my ship from me?”

A dark chuckle rumbles from the man, his shoulders moving slightly. Ignoring the chill in his bones, Spock walks over to Kirk’s prone body and presses his finger against the scanner on his cuffs. A green light flickers, and they pop open immediately.

Kirk pulls his arms forward and rolls onto his back to rub at the red marks on his wrists.

“They should not have put those on you, especially for so long,” Spock says softly. “Are you hurt?”

Kirk smirks.

“I’ve had worse,” he answers, then glances up with an interesting flicker in his eyes. “Did you come to pay me a visit because you miss me, Spock? It has been nearly three days...”

His legs drop open and he arches his back slightly. Spock’s skin heats up under his uniform at the sight. He would be lying if he denied having thought about it- often, in fact. His body aches for him so intensely it’s almost painful. He swiftly spins around.

“That is not the reason for my visit,” he says, frustrated at the relief that did not come from turning away. “Uhura tells me you have rejected every meal that has been brought to you.”

“I refuse to accept food from the hands of traitors,” Kirk growls behind him.

Spock turns back to face him, the man now sitting up on the bed with his back against the wall and his arms resting on his raised knees.

“At least take this,” he holds out his hand, a small green pill resting in his palm. “It’s a synthesized protein derivative. It’ll keep your strength up until you’re ready for real sustenance.”

The captain eyes him suspiciously.

“Why are you keeping me alive, Spock?” he asks, ignoring the offered supplement. “If there is to be any hope for your little rebellion here, you’ll have to kill me.”

Spock sets the pill on the counter under a mirror.

“No.”

“Why? Because that’s against your new world order?”

“You know why.”

Spock’s gaze bores into the captain, and he returns it with an equal intensity. After a long moment, he smiles.

“How long have you known?” Kirk inquires, amused.

“Since Delta 5,” Spock answers.

“Hmm,” the captain hums. “Your powers of deception surpass the rumors, Mr. Spock. You’re quite the performer.”

His eyes drop to his lips, then lower down along the rest of his body.

“Your response to me wasn’t an act, though, was it?” It was a statement more than a question. “You can’t resist me.”

“How could I?” Spock replies. “We are bonded.”

Something curious fills the captain’s eyes, swirling wildly in concern- almost as if he were as distressed by that reality as he is.

“You didn’t realize the bond worked both ways, did you? A double-edged sword, so to speak?” he asks. “You need me as much as I need you.”

“You watch what you say to me, Vulcan,” Kirk snarls threateningly. “I need no one.”

Spock crosses his arms over his chest with a sigh.

“You can say that as much as you like, but it will not alter the truth,” he says.

The captain clenches his jaw, the flex of muscles visible under the taut skin.

“What do you want, Spock?”

“I want you to join me,” he answers, his arms dropping to his side as he takes a step closer. “Be at my side, help me lead this rebellion.”

Kirk laughs, a low, terrible sound that sends a shiver up his spine.

“That will never happen,” he tells him.

“You know of the Halkan prediction of galactic revolt as well as I do, Captain,” Spock states.

Kirk rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively.

“I am not interested in the nonsensical ramblings of foolish old men,” he spats. “I destroyed them for it. I thought as a Vulcan, you’d appreciate that.”

“As a Vulcan, sir, I see the logic in their prophecy,” Spock says calmly. “A civilization cannot be sustained through fear and pain. My homeworld is proof of that.”

Kirk smirks again, looking him up and down.

“Is that what the other Kirk told you?” he asks, his eyes betraying his rage at the thought of his counterpart.

Spock glances away momentarily before solidifying his resolve.

“It is inevitable, Captain,” he answers. “In 240 years, the Empire will be overthrown. The fact that it has outlasted similar civilizations does not alter that outcome.”

“Perhaps, Mr. Spock, but who are you to accelerate that fate? Under what authority do you bring about that future? 240 years is quite a long time. Did you ever consider that this universe may need that time to prepare?” Kirk counters firmly. “You’re doing this now because a man who is not even from this universe told you to do it? You are willing to risk being executed like the traitor you are?”

“Yes.” The word rings out like a bell being struck.

Kirk glares up at him, all traces of amusement draining from his face.

“Then you are a fool.”

Silence blooms between them so tense it could be strummed with a caress of fingers. Spock takes another step closer, allowing his emotions to pass freely through the bond between them. Kirk flinches at their sensation, pressing back against against the wall in his futile attempt to escape them.

“There are times you grow weary of the violence, of the pointless bloodshed,” he says gently. “You would never admit it aloud, but I have felt it, Jim.”

The captain’s eyes flicker up to him at the sound of his name. They shimmer brightly in the white, artificial light almost as if he’s...terrified. He continues.

“The waste of resources, of potential, of time, of lives. We can change it, all of it, now, in this moment,” he murmurs. “Join us...join me.”

Kirk glances away, his jaw clenching nervously. A faint thought trembles along their invisible connection, and Spock stifles the thrill slicing through his chest. Doubt. In all the years of serving as his first officer, he has never seen his captain so exposed. But push too hard too soon, and he may crumble.

“You don’t have to decide now, but please do consider my offer,” he says and turns to the archway; he pauses. “There are very few alternatives.”

The force field drops, and he steps out of the room.

“What would you have done if he continued to refuse?” McCoy asks, taking a sip of brandy.

Csr. Spock shakes his head.

“I didn’t have a plan. I was determined to convince him, to show him the futility of his loyalty to the Empire,” he explains quietly. “His acceptance was the only result I was willing to accept. It was 24 hours before I returned.”

“To reason with him?”

“Not exactly.”

McCoy’s hand stills, though his brandy continues to swirl in his glass. Spock sighs defeatedly.

“I was foolish to think I could resist the bond with willpower alone,” he confesses. “My visit only intensified the longing...that vulnerability I felt from him...I returned to the brig...”

 _Spock slips through the dark, empty corridor like a shadow. Most of the crewmen had retired hours ago, with only a minimal crew on shift for the night. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t even think since he spoke with the captain. Seeing his body respond to his presence, smelling his scent even from across the room. It was hopeless. He needed to see him again, needed to taste him, needed to feel him._  
  
The doors to the brig open upon his approach, the two guards absent. Odd, but he’s too delirious to care at the moment. The one guard inside jumps to his feet, wavering slightly as he comes out of his drowsiness.

_“Sir!” he greets him._

_“Go see to the other prisoners,” Spock orders firmly._

_The guard’s brow furrows._

_“Sir?”_

_“Go see to the other prisoners; I will not repeat myself again.”_

_“Yes, sir,” and he quickly takes his leave._

_“Computer, restrict access.”_

_“Restricting access.”_

_Spock turns to the archway. Kirk sits at the edge of the bed, staring up at him with wide eyes, his fingers digging into the blanket until his knuckles turn white. He quickly punches in the access code, and the force field disappears._

_“I could feel you coming down the corridor,” the captain murmurs as the field crackles back up behind him. “I could feel your need.”_

_He stands from the bed, and Spock closes the distance between them in giant strides. Kirk rushes to meet him, and they crash together with a fevered urgency._

_Spock pries open his lips with a forceful tongue and swallows up his resulting moan. Desperate hands find their way under his uniform, seeking out every inch of scorching skin. His body sings at his touch, his fingers sliding along ripples of muscle and tangling in thick hair. The captain gasps for air during the rare break between their ravenous mouths. He groans at the hard press of his trapped erection against his leg. He pulls the captain impossibly closer, licking against his teeth and biting roughly at his lips- he wants to devour him whole._

_They barely miss a beat as Spock grabs under his thighs and easily lifts him to his waist. He slams him against the wall more violently than he intended in his growing madness, but Kirk groans and pushes hard against him, his arousal digging into his stomach._

_“Fuck, I missed you,” the captain pants against his lips, his hands kneading into firm shoulders. “Although, we’ve never done this before, Mr. Spock.”_

_“No,” Spock breathes back, his hands ripping wildly at his pants. “But it is long overdue.”_

_Kirk smiles as Spock holds him in one arm and tears off his pants with the other. They fall to the floor in a limp heap, followed shortly by his black boxer briefs. He wraps his long fingers around his erection and gives it a few firm strokes._

_“Not wasting any time are we, Mr. Spock?” Kirk teases breathlessly and bites at his bottom lip until small pinpoints of green bloom from the abused flesh._

_Spock delves into his own uniform pants to free his aching erection. It springs forth from its confines, violet-tinted fluid gushing down the flared ridges._

_“I’ve wasted enough time waiting this long,” he growls, diving into the crook of Kirk’s neck._

_He licks and sucks at the tender spot as he pumps his fist along his cock, gathering as much fluid as he can hold in his hand. He brings it to the apex of the captain’s legs spread wide around his waist. Kirk gasps as he smears it around his entrance, coating him generously with the slippery mess. Satisfied with his work, Spock presses a finger against the tight ring of muscle, the captain moaning as it gives way to the pressure._

_“Don’t wait, Spock,” he orders though his voice shakes. “Now.”_

_“No,” he states firmly. “I won’t hurt you, no matter- fuck- how much I need to be inside you.”_

_A second finger slips in next to the first and begins to scissor him open. Kirk’s legs tremble around his waist, his nails digging painfully into his back. Soon he has three fingers pumping easily into his slack hole, and the captain moans loudly with abandon, making him grateful for the soundproof walls of the brig._

_“Spock, fuck, don’t make me beg,” Kirk growls, his hands tangling in his hair._

_Spock lifts his head from the taut nipple he’s been sucking at relentlessly._

_“Oh? I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, Captain,” he says, his primitive desire making him bold and playful despite the circumstances. “I want to hear you say it.”_

_Kirk glares down at him, his cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink and his golden eyes glazed over with lust._

_“You fucking bastard,” he breathes._

_Spock ducks down and bites hard at the nipple, making him cry out and squeeze tightly around his fingers._

_“I can always stop, sir,” he threatens._

_“Fuck you.”_

_Spock halts his ministrations abruptly and pulls his fingers from his body._

_“Please!” the captain practically sobs, clutching tightly at his shoulders, the distress pouring into him from the man like a tidal wave. “Please don’t stop!”_

_“What would you like me to do, Captain?” he murmurs against his jaw, the dynamics of the situation making his mind swirl._

_He winces as he’s gripped tightly by the hair and his head is wrenched back, the captain’s face only a breath away._

_“Fuck me, you Vulcan mutt,” he snarls, then quickly adds, “Please.”_

_Barely able to restrain himself any longer, Spock brings the head of his erection to his entrance, the muscle slightly cool to the touch._

_“Yes, sir.”_

_He thrusts his hips forward, causing Kirk’s lower back to tap sharply against the wall. In one smooth motion, he’s fully seated inside- his preparations a glowing success. Spock’s legs nearly buckle at the onslaught of sensation, the wet warmth wrapped tightly around him._

_“Fuck yes!” the captain shouts, throwing his head back from the intensity of it._

_Spock grips his hips knowing full well it would leave marks on his fragile human skin- but he doesn’t care. Not much else matters with his captain trembling on his cock._

_He draws his hips back slowly, relishing the broken moan spilling from Kirk’s mouth. His tight entrance undulates with each ridge, making him pant and whine helplessly._

_“More, Spock, please,” his voice cracks as he pushes back in, torturously slow._

_“So slick, so tight,” Spock breathes into his neck, his memory flickering back to the first time he was spread across the captain’s desk. “So good, Captain.”_

_His hips begin to pick up speed as his own desire flares up through his core. Kirk grips his waist with his legs desperately as he plunges into his pliant body. The sound of slick skin fills the room, the beading sweat causing the captain to slide up the wall with each powerful thrust._

_A strong tension begins to build low in his belly, pooling and swirling like liquid iron. Very different from the sensation usually milked from him beneath the captain, yet equally vexing. He pumps wildly, using Kirk’s body shamelessly to draw out the feeling from his own, chasing it after it like a delirious animal. He’s so close, the electricity crackling at the ends of his nerves. So close._

_“Yes, Spock, please!” the captain sobs against his ear. “Fuck!”_

_“Stay with me, Jim,” the words are pouring out of him like fevered ramblings, his heart thrumming against his side. “Please stay with me.”_

_“I can’t!” Kirk cries, his muscles tensing up around him. “We’ll be hunted down, executed like dogs!”_

_“No!” Spock shouts, bringing his head back to look up at him, sweat dripping down his face. “With you by my side, we’ll defeat them! We’ll overthrow the Empire!”_

_He reaches up and cups his cheek tenderly in his palm. Kirk stares down at him from beneath his long lashes, eyes welled up with moisture and panting through pink parted lips._

_“You and I will build a new world together.”_

_The captain throws his head back against the wall with a loud thud as a broken cry is ripped from his throat. Thick, white stripes splash up between them as he clenches down around his throbbing cock, milking a more intense sensation as he presses against the flared ridges._

_Spock topples over the edge after him, his entire body tensing under the flood of electricity. Fluid drips down his thighs as he fills the captain, moaning helplessly into the crook of his neck. Gradually, his heart calms to a safer rate and his ragged breathing begins to slow. His legs are like jelly as he struggles to hold the captain, his arms equally depleted of strength._

_A sudden swift kick to the chest sends him tumbling, air knocked violently from his lungs. The back of his head hits with a sharp crack against the floor, clouding his mind in the aftermath. A bronze blur darts around him, and there’s a soft shuffle of fabric nearby. He tries to sit up, his ears ringing as he tries to shake away the fog._

_A low, indecipherable hum murmurs around him like a voice through water. He focuses on the sound, honing his senses enough to understand it. Slowly, the words begin to form._

_“You interrupted my escape, Mr. Spock, but fortunately, after all those years of fucking you, I learned something very important,” It was Kirk’s voice, though muddled to his ears. “I learned the only time I could ever best you physically...is right after an orgasm. It’s so easy to play you, it’s pathetic.”_

_A booming laugh erupts in the room, making him wince. He hears a zipper, then the light squeak of leather boots being pulled on._

_“It’s a shame, really, that we didn’t try this sooner,” he continues as the blurs take on more distinguishable shapes. “I would have liked to explore this dynamic further.”_

_There’s a crackle- like the force field makes when it’s lowered. Spock rolls onto his stomach and struggles to lift himself on trembling arms._

_“At least you gave me a good one for the road,” Kirk sighs dramatically. “And who knows? Perhaps I’ll be allowed some playtime with you before you’re executed.”_

_The fuzzy image of Kirk then steps through the archway and to the door._

_“Captain!” Spock slurs, his vision finally clearing. “Captain!”_

_The doors swish closed as he tentatively rises to his feet and rearranges himself on wobbling legs. He bounds through the archway, clutching to the wall as he goes with the excruciating throbbing in his head. He barrels through the door and into the empty corridor._

_Outgunned and outnumbered, the captain would be foolish to return to the bridge. The transporter room is still undergoing repairs since the ion storm, rendering it inoperable. There is only one remaining exit- the shuttlecrafts._

_Colors and lights swirl sickeningly as Spock makes his way toward the hangar deck more by memory than sight.  
He inputs his access code as soon as he arrives at the door, but a red light flashes in error._

_“Access Denied.”_

_Spock pulls back his arm and smashes his elbow into the control panel, sending sparks and shards of metal flying. The door opens automatically, and he rushes inside._

_Fingers dance around the control podium, as the captain prepares the deck for launch. He spots Sulu and Chekov climbing into one of the shuttlecrafts. There’s a low hum, and the computer begins a countdown._

_Spock flings himself from the support of the wall to the podium, clawing desperately in his compromised state to halt the launch. There’s a sharp ring of a blade being unsheathed, followed shortly by an explosion of pain over his right eye. He falls back, crashing into the monitoring station as he blinks away the blood pouring freely down his face._

_“You Vulcan half-breed, you dare to commit a mutiny on my ship! After I spared you, kept you as my own! This is the thanks I get?!” Kirk roars, pointing the tip of his dagger to him, green dripping from the blade. “I should kill you where you lay, you traitor!”_

_Spock glares up at him, his chin raised high in defiance and face smeared with green gore. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as he waits for the move he’s sure to come. Kirk glowers down at him, his dagger frozen in place. He glances away once the computer is below one minute._

_“Another time, perhaps- another universe.”_

_Instead, his boot cracks harshly against his cheekbone, wrenching his head violently to the side. The captain replaces his dagger before hopping over him to run to the hangar deck. The door locks and the deck begins to depressurize._

_Spock clutches at the edge of the podium and struggles to lift himself to his feet. He pauses for a brief moment until his head stops spinning to look up through the glass. He watches as Kirk climbs into the other shuttlecraft, and his blood instantly runs cold- the shuttlecraft that was still undergoing repairs after the ion storm._

_“Jim!” he shouts, slapping a hand against the glass._

_The shuttle door closes behind him, and the engines roar to life._

_Spock scrambles with the buttons and switches in front of him to input the emergency stop code._

_“Emergency Stop Deactivated.”_

_“JIM!” he screams, pounding his fist against the glass until a hairline fracture breaks the smooth surface. “JIM!”_

_The bay door opens, and the shuttlecraft carrying Sulu and Chekov exits first. The other follows close behind into open space. Spock flips on the view screen, praying to whatever may be listening._

_The first craft shoots off as quickly as it can to make its escape, but sparks begin to erupt from the engines of the other. It drifts aimlessly as the lights go out...until the gravitational pull of the planet below takes hold. The nose of the vessel drops abruptly, sending it plummeting like an arrow towards the surface._

_“JIM!”_

_The hull begins to glow red as it heats up in the friction of the atmosphere, then a blinding white. Spock watches helplessly in horror as the craft breaks up into flaming fragments, which disappear into wisps of smoke._

_He drops to his knees, an anguished cry tearing through his throat. His heart nearly stops from the excruciating pain as the bond is ripped from every fiber of his being. He collapses to to floor, seizing and convulsing violently. A shattering thought echoes in his mind- He’s gone- his captain, his bondmate- is gone._

“I was rushed to Sickbay after being found unconscious on the floor of the hangar deck station,” Csr. Spock tells the doctor. “The Doctor McCoy of my universe had to use sixty ccs of cordrazine to revive me.”

McCoy says nothing, not really sure if there’s anything he could say.

“I nearly broke his neck when I realized what he had done,” the counselor murmurs quietly, a traitorous tear slipping down his cheek, over his scar. “I wanted to die on that table- no amount of training could have ever prepared me for the pain I endured when our bond was broken. I was restrained for hours until my vitals returned to normal.”

He wipes at his cheek and clears his throat to continue.

“Uhura had control of the bridge. The shuttlecrafts set off our sensors immediately, and she made maneuvers to intercept. But when Kirk’s shuttlecraft malfunctioned, she diverted her efforts to save it. She was too late, as I was. Sulu and Chekov managed to escape and the other shuttlecraft burned in the atmosphere,” he explains. “Their shuttlecraft reached the ISS Constitution approximately 14 hours later, and our revolution began.”

McCoy fingers the empty glass in his hands, his foggy mind trying to process all the information just given to him. It seemed impossible, absolutely impossible, that the Spock of that universe is the very same Counselor Spock silently sitting across the table from him. He had the brightest smile and the most patient, gentle nature of anyone aboard this starship. It was like a great galactic paradox.

“What do you think has brought all this up, Spock?” he breaks their deafening silence. “More importantly, why is it keeping you from Jim and Spock?”

“Does there need to be a reason?” the counselor asks, irritation thick in his voice. “The mind works in strange ways, doctor.”

“There is usually a moment, an event of some sort that would trigger those memories, you know that,” McCoy argues. “Jim mentioned his frequent use of...certain phrases.”

The Vulcan glances up at him.

“Which phrases?” he asks.

“”I love you.” He says that even Spock is saying it, which I can’t even imagine,” the doctor answers. “Their use of “I love you” is causing it though, isn’t it?”

Csr. Spock cast his eyes down without reply.

“Is it because you don’t love them back?” McCoy presses. “Or is it because you do?”

“It’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be, doctor...it’s...more than that.”

“How so?”

The Vulcan’s fingers fidget relentlessly in his lap.

“I wish to meld with them.”

“Meld?” MCoy parrots.

“Yes, the mind meld- the joining of the minds. You recall I had perform it on you to...extract information during our first encounter,” the counselor tells him.

“I remember,” McCoy mumbles under his breath. Csr. Spock continues.

“The mind meld is the final stage of the bond. When my bond was severed in the other Kirk’s death, the reason it was not more damaging to me was because he had missed this crucial step...”

He glances up, his eyes bright behind a stray lock of hair.

“If we were to meld, doctor,” he murmurs in a tone as faraway as his gaze. “We would be bonded in a way that would surpass that which I had with the other Kirk.”

McCoy senses the anxiety rolling off him in waves from his own words.

“That prospect frightens you,” he states. “Why?”

The counselor fingers the rim of his glass, watching the way the ice blue ale swirls like an enchanted spring.

“Because, doctor, they will see me...all of me...stripped bare of all defenses and pretenses. I have never been so exposed, so vulnerable,” he replies. “They will see me for what I am.”

“And what is that, Spock?”

“...a monster.”

He swallows, and his eyes well again with moisture.

“A monster with a broken, bastardized bond to a dead man,” he hisses angrily. “They deserve better than that.”

McCoy leans forward in his chair to rest his arms on the table.

“Don’t you think they should have a say in that?” he inquires lightly.

“They shouldn’t suffer for my mistake,” Csr. Spock counters. “I should have been more careful.”

“You didn’t know what he was doing, Spock.”

“That’s no excuse! Not for a Vulcan and certainly not for a Starfleet officer.”

“But for a human,” the doctor starts gently, bringing the counselor’s attention to him. “We are all built from a lifetime of mistakes, Spock. To learn and grow from our errors makes us who we are. It teaches us what we should not do in the future, but more importantly...it reveals to us what we should do.”

“And what should I do, doctor?” Csr. Spock asks.

McCoy shrugs.

“I would say you should go talk to Jim and Spock about the whole thing- they are pretty invested in you at this point, you hobgoblin,” he teases, then adds. “But I can’t tell you what to do, Spock; you have to decide that yourself.”

He then raises his brandy.

“To decisions, good and bad,” he toasts. “May we have the wisdom to understand which is which.”

“To decisions,” the counselor replies quietly, lifting his ale.

And they drain their glasses.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. The slow and steady rhythm vibrates into Spock’s chest from the man leaning back against him. The room is dark and silent, save for the faint heartbeat, as they sit together on the long sofa. It’s late; he feels it in the way Kirk sinks deeper against him, yet he refuses to succumb to the weariness. He hasn’t slept for a moment in 36 hours with the captain making due with barely more. He had tried the first night to convince him to rest, his duty as first officer driving his intentions, but it was useless. Kirk could no more ease his mind enough to sleep than he could. Even sitting here wedged close together, he should feel some comfort. The hollowness, however, always finds a way to creep in- an unsettling sense that something…someone…is missing. He tells himself that the counselor will return when he is ready, that it would be detrimental to pressure him in his obviously vulnerable state, but…it’s been three days, four nights now… How odd it is to…feel such concern.  
  
Spock tightens his arms around Kirk, and warmth swells up in his chest when the man nuzzles against his jaw. He rests his mouth against his caramel locks, not in a kiss, but just as a way to feel him, smell him, and give gratitude for his presence, keeping the gnawing loneliness at bay.  
  
“You are tired, _ashal-veh_ ,” he murmurs against the crown of his head, his warm breath flowing between the strands.  
  
“I’m not,” Kirk argues weakly.  
  
Spock raises his hand to rest gently against the side of his neck, and his fingers trace the shell of his ear- something his mother would do when he had difficulty falling asleep as a child.  
  
“You need rest, Jim, as captain of this ship and for the safety of the crew,” he counters quietly; it’s the same argument they’ve had for the passed few evenings.  
  
Kirk places his hand over his and squeezes it.  
  
“I can’t,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I...I can’t sleep…all I can think about is what I could have done to turn him away from us…”  
  
Spock dips his head down lower to where his lips meet his temple.  
  
“It is likely that the contention Spock is working through arose from no actions of your own,” he says in an attempt to comfort the despair seeping into his mind from the human. “We do not know the full extent of what he experienced in the other universe, and it would be foolish to expect no residual effect from those circumstances.”  
  
Kirk plants a kiss to the inside of his wrist.  
  
“As logical as always, my love,” he replies affectionately.  
  
“He will return to us when he is ready, Jim,” he assures him.  
  
The man lifts his chin, his golden eyes still bright in the low light. Dark patches bruise the area just beneath them.  
  
“How can you be so sure?” he asks softly.  
  
Despite the worry clouding his own mind, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Because I feel it,” he says.  
  
Kirk returns his reassuring smile with one of his own. Spock continues to trace his ear gently with his fingertips, and the man rests his head back, allowing his thoughts to slow with the tender touch. His eyes flutter closed, and Spock holds him tighter against his chest.  
  
A whistle from the door brings them both to attention as quickly as a shock of electricity.  
  
“Come,” Kirk calls, hope thick in his voice.  
  
The door swooshes open, and Spock stares, momentarily unable to believe his eyes despite his perfect vision.  
  
Csr. Spock takes a tentative step into the room, his gaze lowered to the floor. The pungent bite of Romulan ale follows him inside, but the thrill of anticipation slices through it, every sense keenly focused on the simple fact that he is standing in the room.  
  
“Spock,” Kirk’s voice is barely a whisper.  
  
He moves to rise from the couch, but Spock places a gentle hand on his shoulder, halting his movements. The intense turmoil exuding from the Vulcan is thick in the air. They need to go slow.  
  
Silence rings painfully in his ears, but he remains still, awaiting the counselor to set the tone of this reunion.  
  
“Why,” Csr. Spock finally asks, his voice like gravel from his throat.  
  
Confusion blossoms in his mind, mirroring that from the captain. The counselor’s chest rises and falls in soft, yet ragged, breaths.  
  
“Why did you bring me back?” he asks dejectedly.   
  
“I do not understand your question, _ashayam_ ,” Spock answers, his eyebrows stitched together.  
  
The counselor’s cheeks flex with his clenched jaw. He glances up. His dark eyes rimmed red and shimmering in the dim light, bore into him.  
  
“One night- I spent one night with you,” he says. “That is hardly enough time to fall in love, even by human standards.”  
  
He takes a deep breath.  
  
“So I ask again,” he starts, tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to fall. “Why didn’t you let me die there?”   
  
“How can you even ask us that, Spock?” Kirk interjects sharply, ignoring Spock’s hand on his shoulder and rising to his bare feet.   
  
“I was supposed to die in my universe to end the Empire, you said it yourself. There was no other way around that fact,” Csr. Spock retorts, a tear slipping down his cheek. “You should not have brought me here.”  
  
He turns his attention to Spock, who remains sitting quietly on the sofa.  
  
“Spock, you of all people…I would expect you to have objected to my return here.”  
  
“Why do you say that?” he inquires calmly.   
  
The frustration drains from the Vulcan’s face, replaced with a dark shade of shame. More tears fall down his cheeks.  
  
“I am the embodiment of the very things you have fought to suppress in yourself. I am your greatest fear come to life, Spock,” he sobs softly. “And you do not know the things I have done...”  
  
He wipes at his face, but fails to keep the fresh tears from falling.  
  
“I can’t stay,” he whispers. “You both deserve more than what I can give you.”  
  
Kirk rushes forward, his intense need to comfort overriding his sense to take things easy, but slows when he notices the slight flinch from the counselor.   
  
“Spock,” he says softly, his own voice drowning in emotion.   
  
He reaches out a hand and takes another cautious step forward, like approaching a wounded animal. Csr. Spock’s eyes widen, but he makes no attempt to move away. Spock watches him nearly crumble entirely when Kirk finally cups his cheek in his palm.   
  
“You are absolutely right, Spock, it was just one night, the three of us together,” the captain murmurs, his gaze locked on his. “But what I feel for you, for the man behind me, extends long before that night.”  
  
The counselor’s eye flutter closed, more tears streaming down his cheeks as he holds his face between both hands.   
  
“I have been the captain of this ship for over three years now, and every single day, Spock has been at my side,” he continues gently, his gaze not faltering for an instant. “I have explored new worlds, overcome great dangers, and seen wonders of the galaxy I never could have imagined. Every victory, every trial, every single experience I’ve shared with Spock...and in a sense, with you.”  
  
He tilts the Vulcan’s face to him, making him open his eyes.  
  
“Since the beginning I felt something familiar and warm with Spock, a sense of home though I am lightyears from it- a bond, so to speak...and it has only grown stronger with time,” he explains, rubbing a thumb across his cheekbone. “I felt that same bond between us that night, as short as our time was; I felt we had all been together for an eternity.”   
  
He slowly leans forward and rests his forehead against his.   
  
“I cannot make you stay, Spock, but I do not want you to leave believing that we do not love you,” he whispers. “Because that is the furthest thing from the truth.”  
  
The counselor drops his head, trying weakly to fall from the captain’s grip.   
  
“How can you love me when you do not know what I am...” he whispers back. “The pain I’ve inflicted, the blood that I’ve shed, the nightmares I’ve created...”  
  
“Then show us,” Kirk interrupts gently, hands dropping to his shoulders, asking for something far more profound than his words would lead one to believe.   
  
“I can’t,” Csr. Spock objects.   
  
“Because we will be bonded?”   
  
The Vulcan’s head snaps up at the question.  
  
“Yes, I know. If we meld, we will be bonded, wholly and completely,” Kirk continues softly. “Spock and I bonded soon after your departure to the other universe.”   
  
He gently tucks a few stray locks behind the counselor’s ear.   
  
“We have wanted to bond with you for a long while now...we’ve been waiting for the right moment,” he murmurs.  
  
Csr. Spock shakes he head, eyes wide.  
  
“You should not want that,” he whispers.  
  
“Why?”  
  
The counselor swallows, his throat bobbing in his anguish.  
  
“Because I am a monster,” he answers quietly. “You will be horrified by what you meet inside my mind…but it will be too late.”  
  
Spock finally rises from the sofa and makes his way to the Vulcan in smooth strides. Csr. Spock watches his approach and releases a ragged breath when he runs his fingers through his long, soft hair.   
  
“I may be overstepping my bounds, but I believe I speak for Jim and myself when I say,” he gently raises his chin with a gentle hand. “That is a risk we are willing to take.”  
  
“Absolutely,” Kirk concurs firmly.  
  
The counselor glances between he and the captain, a tumult of emotions churning in his eyes. Kirk takes his hand and brings it up to his lips, softly kissing each fingertip. The Vulcan’s eyes flutter closed, and he draws in a shaky breath.  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Kirk glances up at Spock with a small smile, which he returns with an excited glimmer in his dark eyes. He turns and goes to the bedroom, returning with a stack of pillows. He arranges them in a circle on the floor and kneels down before holding out a hand.   
  
Kirk gently leads Csr. Spock to him, and kneels onto a pillow. He rubs his knuckles reassuringly with his thumb when he hesitates, staring down at them, unsure- afraid. Spock patiently beckons him forward with his outstretched hand. A flood of joy overtakes him when his fingers grasp his own, and he takes his place on the floor.   
  
“Are you sure? There is no turning back after this,” Csr. Spock warns sadly.  
  
Kirk squeezes his hand softly, a gesture Spock copies with his other.   
  
“Absolutely sure,” he says.  
  
Spock nods when he turns his gaze to him. The counselor then closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. The tears have dried from his cheeks, and his broad chest rises as his lungs fill with air. He releases it slowly, steadily in time with his heartbeat. Spock recognizes the method; it is the first breathing exercise he taught him, used to quiet his mind when he is troubled. After repeating the pattern a few more times, he opens his eyes again.  
  
Csr. Spock reaches up with his hand, carefully placing his thumb to the corner of Spock’s mouth, his forefinger next to his nose, and his remaining fingers to the area above his temporal bone. He mirrors the positioning along the qui’lari on Kirk’s face, preparing them for the joining of the minds.   
  
Already sensing the fear through his touch, Spock pours as much reassurance as he can manage into the contact. The frantic heart beating wildly in his side calms as a result, and he begins.  
  
“My mind to your mind...my thoughts to your thoughts...”  
  
Darkness. Darkness and silence swallow the echo of his words as their minds blend together. Then suddenly, the stench of death assaults his nose as a torrent of color overwhelms his consciousness. Screams of pain fill his ears and sprays of crimson and emerald blood paint his vision as he wades through the foreign memories. Death and destruction on a scale unlike he’s ever witnessed before- torture and grief at the hands of Empire officers, cackling horridly among the gore.   
  
Spock pushes through, searching for Kirk’s presence in the chaos. He finds him, glowing bright like a star in the night. He goes to him, allowing himself to blend into the warmth of the human. Kirk responds happily, his consciousness churning with him. They then turn to face the storm together.  
  
They flow through the broken, dark memories of Csr. Spock’s mind, the pain growing with each one, but their strength continues to flow between them, and the harsh edge eases with their touch.   
  
They move forward, letting the experiences pass through them as they search for the counselor. The finally find him, tucked away in the safety of his mental shields, shimmering like gold amongst the darkness. When they touch, his presence shines even brighter.  
  
They swirl together for a long moment, feeling each other close. Spock is the first to break away, his consciousness pulling them along. Csr. Spock resists as he’s lead closer to the dark storm swirling about his mind, but he persists. He reaches out into the tempest, and he watches as the flurry of memories begins to calm. They slow into a gentle flow like a lulling stream. The memories of pain and death mix in with those rare, incredibly vibrant times of joy, and they take it all in- good and bad- until the Vulcan is imprinted on their minds.  
  
Spock is suddenly pulled back to his own body, the connection broken. His chest heaves with labored breaths while his heart slows from the frantic hum in his side. He notices the sweat beading on Kirk’s skin and the tremble in his hands in the aftermath of the meld. The counselor stares at them, eyes wide with terror, as he waits for their response.   
  
Without a word, Kirk simply wraps his arms around him, pressing his head to his chest. He buries his face into his hair, squeezing him tighter in his embrace. Comfort and raw, intense love flows from him to the Vulcan through their fully formed bond.   
  
Csr. Spock melts into him, fresh tears falling from his eyes as he understands him without so much as a sound. Spock joins them, encircling them both in his arms, pouring his love out into their bond. Csr. Spock trembles between them, burying his face into Kirk’s chest as he releases his emotions from a lifetime of repression. Spock nuzzles into his thick hair, placing a kiss behind his ear.   
  
They sit like that for a long while, holding each other, feeling the love pass between them through their bond until Csr. Spock’s anguished cries quiet to muffled sobs, then to steady breathing as he falls asleep. It was unmistakable now, completely undeniable. They belonged together- the three of them- bonded together for eternity. And nothing could make him happier. 

  
***

  
A thin sliver of light rouses Spock to consciousness from the deep depths of sleep. He opens his eyes to the walls of the bedroom bathed in a soft, blue glow. Interesting. He goes to sit up from the bed, but the arm resting across his stomach keeps him in place.  
  
He looks down at Csr. Spock tucked up against his side, his bare shoulder peeking out from the blanket draped over them. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth at the steady rise and fall of his chest, giving way to soft breaths as he sleeps. Spock leans forward gently and presses his lips to the crown of his head. He lingers there, indulging in the scent of his hair and the warmth of his body on his skin.   
  
He looks to the other side of the bed expecting to find Kirk in the same state, but instead finds empty sheets. Turning to search for the missing man, he spots him through the open area in the wall separating the bedroom from the rest of their quarters standing at a long slanted window. In the heat of the room, he hasn’t bothered to cover himself in the slightest as he gazes out into space.   
  
As gently as possible, Spock slips out from under the counselor’s arm and out of bed. He pulls the blanket higher over the sleeping Vulcan’s bare shoulder. He then grabs Kirk’s red satin robe from the chair in the corner and drapes it around himself, not bothering to tie the sash. The thin fabric doesn’t provide much warmth anyway, but he does enjoy the slick slide against his skin. He walks from the bedroom, his feet a whisper across the floor. He’s discovered at the last moment before he slips his arms around his waist, his body pressing up against his back. Kirk melts into him, his head resting on his shoulder. Spock caresses the shell of his ear with his lips and places soft kisses to the nape of his neck.  
  
“Mmm, good morning, my love,” the captain murmurs, eyelids heavy over golden eyes.  
  
Spock continues his languid trail down the gentle slope of his shoulder and up to the edge of his jaw. He is usually not so physically affectionate, but he finds himself unable to resist the soft flutter of desire and tenderness passing between them in response to his touch.  
  
“We are in orbit over Aurelia?” he asks into his skin, not sparing a moment to look out the window at the lush blue and green planet below.  
  
“Yes,” Kirk answers, the smile audible in his voice. “I received notice from the bridge an hour ago.”  
  
“And that is why you are out of bed?” Spock inquires into his sleep-mussed hair, his hot breath skating through the strands and hands traveling up to his broad, bronzed chest. “Against the doctor’s orders to rest?”  
  
Kirk covers his arms with his own and turns his head.  
  
“He may have restricted us to our quarters for the day, but he said nothing of outside communications,” he teases. “But I needed to leave the bed just for a while, anyway; quite a bit of heat is generated with two Vulcans sharing a bed.”  
  
“We could decrease the environmental temperature if it is causing you discomfort, Jim,” Spock offers as he leans back to look him in the eyes, concerned about his current wellbeing.  
  
“There’s no need, my love; I am acclimating,” Kirk assures him, brushing his lips lightly over his mouth. “Unless you would prefer I wear more clothes?”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Spock answers, diving deeper into his parted lips.  
  
The kiss is slow, a sweet exchange of affection and aching need to be closer still. He then pulls away, his thumb stroking the swell of his cheekbone.  
  
“You have a lot on your mind, ashayam,” he tells him, the cloud of thought pushing into his consciousness.  
  
The corner of Kirk’s mouth pulls up into a small smile.  
  
“It’s always been impossible to hide anything from you- even before our bonding,” he replies quietly. “Yes, there is.”  
  
“Would you like to discuss it?” Spock asks gently.  
  
Kirk sighs and glances over at the sleeping form still curled up in their bed.  
  
“The mind-meld with Spock…” he starts. “I can’t get the image out of my head…”  
  
Spock remains silent, waiting for the captain to explain as a mix of emotion seeps in through their connection.  
  
“I’ve never seen such destruction or so much pain…and most of it was at my instruction- well- his instruction…”  
  
Kirk pauses for a moment to swallow, his throat bobbing with the action, not taking his eyes from Csr. Spock.  
  
“He endured so much, Spock- so much fear, and grief, and pain, and loneliness….” he murmurs quietly. “But it never touched him, not really…that glow…”  
  
“His katra,” Spock interjects gently.  
  
“Yes...” a smile spreads across Kirk’s lips. “It was so bright, its beauty rivaled only by that of your own, Spock- which only makes sense.”  
  
He turns to give him a soft kiss.  
  
“I thank the gods we were able to bring him back to us.”  
  
Spock steals another kiss before slotting his chin into the crook of his neck.  
  
“I too give thanks,” he confesses. “Especially in those moments when he smiles and the joy touches his eyes.”  
  
Kirk grins against his cheek.  
  
“That’s quite a romantic thing to say, Spock,” he teases lightly.  
  
“Well, one does change a little when bonded to another- or two,” Spock replies, nuzzling his nose behind the captain’s ear, making him giggle.  
  
Kirk then turns in his arms to face him and conjures a pleasant tingling sensation as he weaves his fingers through the thick hair covering his chest.   
  
“I want to make it official- me, you, and Spock- for all of the Enterprise,” he says softly; he glances up from his hands, caramel locks curling onto his forehead. “What do you think?”  
  
Spock stares down at him for a moment before raising an eyebrow.   
  
“I would be amiable to provide you with an answer, Jim, if you were to ask me properly,” he tells him.  
  
Kirk’s eyebrows furrow together.  
  
“Explain.”  
  
Spock struggles to keep the smile from his face.  
  
“From what I understand of Terran traditions, when one is proposing marriage,” he says. “They do so upon one knee.”  
  
Kirk dips his head, his cheeks flushing slightly. Without a word, he lowers down to his knee. The golden strands of his hair shine like a crown in the low light. He then glances back up, a soft grin ghosting across his lips.  
  
“S'chn T'gai Spock,” he begins quietly, his pronunciation immaculate. “Fire of my heart, light of my soul, love of my life…”  
  
He kisses the top of his hand.  
  
“Will you marry me?”  
  
Spock swallows at the lump forming in his throat. He made this suggestion only to tease, but now…with this illogical, beautiful man kneeling before him…warmth swells in his chest until he feels his heart may burst. He gently caresses his cheek with his fingertips, afraid that this could all be an illusion of a deliriously happy mind not yet accustomed to such emotions, that he may waver and disappear from the touch. However, he’s met with the soft, yet solid, give of flesh. Not an illusion, not a dream…real. He’s barely capable of making a coherent sound, but he succeeds.  
  
“I will, Jim.”  
  
Kirk’s lips pull into a wide smile, like the sun emerging from the clouds, and Spock swoons under its full force. The captain returns to his feet and pulls his mouth to his. It is less of a kiss, more of an embrace of their very essence. The love flows between them through the contact, making Spock’s mind swirl until he’s drunk with it.  
  
“I love you,” Kirk whispers when he pulls away, his breath cool against his lips.  
  
“ _Ashau nash-veh du_ ,” he replies without a second thought.  
  
The captain grins again and pulls him into another deep kiss. Whether or not he understands the literal meaning of his words is no longer relevant, spoken expressions no longer necessary- not with a true bond.  
  
Spock turns his head to the counselor still curled up in bed with a dazed smile.  
  
“Shall we ask him?” he asks.  
  
Kirk shakes his head.  
  
“Not now. Let him rest,” he answers. “I have never seen him sleep so peacefully.”  
  
Spock takes his hand and gently leads him back to the bedroom. He sheds the satin robe before carefully climbing beneath the blanket on one side of the counselor, the captain doing the same on the other. He pulls the limp Vulcan to him, draping him across his chest. Csr. Spock groans softly and nuzzles against his thick hair. Kirk fits himself against his back and wraps an arm around his waist. He kisses his bare shoulder and chuckles when a quiet rumble vibrates against his chest.  
  
Spock rests his cheek against the top of the Vulcan’s head as his hand weaves lazily through Kirk’s silky hair, the strands tickling between his fingers. Their bond flows freely between them, like a breeze swirling in the leaves of a tree. The sensation is amplified through the touch of their skin to an intensity that erases all other thought, making the room around them fade away into a blur- it was the only thing that can be felt, and truly the only thing that matters.  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

_Captain's personal log Stardate 4076.4  
I got married today. Never before in my life did I think I would ever say those words, but here we are. Since the day Spock stepped off the transporter pad from the parallel universe, I’ve learned that life has a funny way of surprising you with the things you would least expect._

_Bones nearly fell over when I asked him to be my best man, but there is no one in the universe I would have by my side as I wed the two loves of my life. I don’t know if this day would have come without his help, for which I am eternally grateful. Not only has Csr. Spock returned to Spock and I in our quarters, but he’s been sleeping more soundly than I’ve ever witnessed. Bones, I am forever in your debt._

_Speaking of the good doctor, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him cry, and today held one of those moments. If fact, I don’t think there was a dry eye on the room as Commodore Stone, who happened to be in our quadrant for a mission, conducted the ceremony._

_It was a small event as we are close to the outer reaches of mapped Federation territory, and we didn’t want to make too much of a fuss. The Spocks and I hope to have a proper bonding ceremony on Vulcan once we are back in it’s quadrant with all the bells and whistles and friends and family._

_But I will never forget this day. This is the day I knelt beside the two pieces of my very heart and was bound to them on my ship before the eyes of the Enterprise and the Federation._

_I should be going now; I have a party to attend, and I don’t think Uhura would ever forgive me if I showed up late after all her effort with such short notice._

_This is Captain James Tiberius S'chn T'gai Kirk signing off._

The large ballroom hums with conversation and laughter as background to the music played by the band onstage. Warm sunshine spills in through tall arched windows and the soft scent of rose and jasmine wafts in the air from the bouquets coiled around thick marble pillars. Kirk is a little surprised to hear the faint song of birds chirping outside. He was a bit skeptical when the holodeck was first installed a month ago, but he has to admit, he’s thoroughly impressed by the astonishing attention to detail. In conjunction with Uhura’s talent for design, the reception is like a damn fairytale. Kirk glances around at the faces of his crewmen and closest friends as they enjoy the food, drink, and company of one another on this momentous day.

A warm hand wraps around his, pulling him from his thoughts and making him aware of the large, goofy grin spread across his face. Spock’s dark eyes shimmer at him beneath the light dusting of blue on his eye lids, contrasting the warmth of his eyes and complimenting the color of his dress uniform. A small smile plays at his pink lips as he give him a gentle squeeze.

He turns when his other hand is captured with fingers intertwining with his own. Csr. Spock grins broadly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His black silky locks pull up into a sleek ponytail, accentuating the sharp crease of his cheekbones and highlighting the curve of his ears. They’re both incredibly beautiful- breathtakingly so. He’ll have to remember to thank Sulu later.

Maybe it’s the day or the holodeck program- more likely the few drinks he’s had since the party started- but his mind swims with a joy so intense he can hardly believe this is real. But it is, totally and incredibly real. The Spocks...his Spocks...bonded in every way one can be bonded to another- or two.

Kirk brings both hands to his mouth, peppering kisses enthusiastically along both sets of knuckles, making Csr. Spock chuckle. Love pours into him through their bond, filling him until he’s brimming like a vessel with water. His assault is interrupted by a delicate ringing as silver is tapped against crystal glass. The three of them look to the source. McCoy stands from his seat as a hush falls over the ballroom. All eyes suddenly on him, he tugs nervously at the hem of his blue dress uniform and clears his throat.

“Uh, hello, everyone; I see many familiar faces, but just in case anyone doesn’t know me, I’m Doctor McCoy- you know, the one who keeps you alive when something goes wrong,” he earns a few chuckles, and continues. “I’ve never been very good at this type of thing. As I said, I’m a doctor, not a poet, so hopefully we all can get back to celebrating sooner rather than later.”

Kirk watches as his eyes flicker over to where Kirk is sitting and swallows.

“I’ve known Jim for a long time now- a long time- but I can still remember the first time I met this hoodlum. He was just an ensign then, so fresh out of the academy you could still see the green behind his ears. Over a few drinks at a bar back home on Earth, he told me his whole life’s plan to become a starship captain and to explore more new worlds and civilizations than any captain before him.”

There’s a rumble of chuckles around the room and Kirk glances down bashfully.

“Well, not only did he become a starship captain, he was the fastest to do so in the history of Starfleet. That young ensign had stars in his eyes and a fire in his belly that has taken me on more adventures than I ever could imagine- or want. He is the damn best starship captain this doctor has had the privilege to serve with and the closest friend I’ve ever had.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and he looks down momentarily in a failed attempt to hide the quiver of his bottom lip. He looks up at Kirk with glossy eyes.

“In all the years I’ve known Jim he has only ever talked about _space, the final frontier_ , and his ship. To say he had a one-track mind was an understatement,” he manages, struggling to keep the shaking in his voice under control. “So maybe you can understand how surprised I was when he told me not only did he have one special someone in his life, but two.”

Kirk swallows hard against the growing lump in his throat at the waver in his words. He brings the two hands resting in his lap to his lips again, making the two Vulcans on either side of him turn, and gives them each a kiss. McCoy continues despite his crumbling composure, glancing to Spock.

“When Spock first stepped foot aboard this ship as first officer, I knew things weren’t going to be easy for this mission, especially since we’d be cooped up together for five years. I was so sure that we would never get along, never able to find a piece of common ground big enough to stand on tip-toed,” he says with a soft chuckle; the smile then falls from his face, replaced with something more serious, more meaningful. “But I was so wrong. Spock is brilliant and logical to a fault, but he is also compassionate, loyal, and when he wants to be, a pleasure to be around-“

“There’s no need to insult me, doctor,” Spock injects with a playful glint in his dark eyes, eliciting a laugh from the other guests.

McCoy waves a hand at him.

“My point is, Spock is pretty okay,” he teases though moisture still glistens along the rims of his eyes.

He then turns to the counselor, who meets his gaze somewhat nervously under the sudden attention.

“And Spock, it hasn’t been long since you joined us here in this universe, but in the time I have come to know you, I’ve learned that you are strong and resilient with the kindest heart and the brightest smile I’ve ever laid eyes on,” At it’s mention, a wide grin spreads across Csr. Spock’s face and a light flush colors his cheeks.

McCoy looks between Kirk, Spock, and Counselor Spock as a tear finally streams down his cheek.

“I look at the three of you now and I can just _see_ it plain as day how much you love each other,” the doctor sniffs. “It’s so rare to find one soulmate in this vast universe, and somehow, dammit, you found two.”

Another tear falls down his face. A chorus of sniffles echoes throughout the room.

“There’s an old Earth saying that you don’t marry those you can live with,” he says with a smile. “You marry those you can’t live without.”

Kirk bites against his bottom lip as his own tears spill from his eyes. McCoy wipes at the wetness on his face with the back of his hand. He takes hold of the crystal glass in front of him filled with bubbling magenta Edosian champagne.

“Captain James Kirk, Commander Spock, and Counselor Spock,” he raises his glass, and they, along with the other guests, follow suit. “Congratulations and _dif-tor heh smusma_.”

Kirk laughs as both Spocks gape at the doctor, completely shocked at his perfect pronunciation of the Vulcan saying in its native language. Through the roar of cheers and whistles, he tips his glass to his lips and sips at the tart champagne, bubbles fizzing on his tongue. Csr. Spock pulls him into a quick kiss once his mouth is free, and Spock does the same. He smiles and brings both of them close, nuzzling his nose against theirs between stolen kisses.

“Alright! Now it’s time to really get this party started!” McCoy shouts after draining his glass.

The band begins to play as another wave of cheers erupts and people pop up from their seats to make their way to the dance floor. Hips roll in a sea of movement to the music as laughter and cheers echo through the room.

Kirk springs up from his chair excitedly and tugs the two Vulcans along behind him. They venture into the churning sea of dancers and begin rolling and swaying together in the steps taught to them by Sulu. Uhura’s voice fills the room as smooth and rich as warm honey as she begins to sing.

As he watches Spock and Csr. Spock move to the beat of the music, laughing and managing sweet nothings over the noise, warmth swells in Kirk’s chest until he fears his heart may burst. The two pieces of his soul, the loves of his life, his husbands, his Spocks, whatever they may be called, here they are all together, bonded and deliriously happy.

Csr. Spock’s hair whips in silky waves as he dances, surprising Spock with a quick kiss. Kirk chuckles at his expression before stealing one of his own.

He then pulls them in closer until their foreheads rest gently against each other. The intense love and overwhelming joy passes between them through the contact, through their bond, filling their souls and conveying what is almost impossible to put into words.

Kirk can hardly believe that a simple transporter malfunction during an ion storm has brought him to this moment. And how in the universe could he have known that the Spock on the ISS Enterprise, who fought a revolution and endured so much darkness and pain, would be the catalyst between all three of them, finally shining light on long held desires and unspoken words? Since Csr. Spock stepped off that transporter, everything has changed- he has changed.

Knowing that life holds more in store for him than being a starship captain, and that he gets to do so along side the two beings he loves most in the universe, he can barely contain his excitement for the future. He understands more intensely now in his moment, possibly more so than ever before, as warm breath brushes across his cheeks and hearts flutter rapidly, that his place not just among the stars, but here with his bondmates, his husbands, his Spocks.

He feels it again later that night, as they move together, skin fever-hot and slick with sweat and writhing in desire- when fingers placed along the qui’lari blend their minds together, their consciousness melting and churning in time with their bodies. Come what may, his place here- Kirk and his Spocks.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dif-tor heh smusma: live long and prosper 
> 
> Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me through this crazy story. I hope you’ve been enjoying it!
> 
> Please let me know if you would like me to continue! I have more ideas for where this can go, but I get that there’s a time to move on. Even the best of stories can jump the shark (I’m not saying that this is one of the best, but you get what I mean). 
> 
> I am totally enthralled with Kirk and his Spocks, but as much as I love them, I write this for all of you as much as I do for myself.
> 
> Thank you again to all of you for reading! It’s been a fun AU to explore! Let me know if you’re still enjoying it and would like me to continue! I’d love to hear what you think!


End file.
